A/N Could anyone ever doubt Draco was godly?

Arrow-1-Speaking Weaponry

Draco looked up from his bed, where he lay. Silvery walls bordered the room, matching green bedspreads and curtains added to the Slytherin-y look. His too-long hair drooped over his pale features. Above him hung an arrow. On the tip, was his blood. Red. Scarlet Red. It was not his. It could not have been, as his was not red. It was silver. Whether it was his Veela, Vampire, or immortal ancestry, he was unsure. The only thing he knew about his blood was that it was not evil. Evil Blood was black, and smelled of decay. He often wondered what color his father's was, and Harry Potter's. Surely good blood had to have a specific color, as evil blood did.

Was his not black, only because of his overpowering non-human ancestry? Would his blood be red, if not for the former mentioned condition? It was a question he often asked himself. The arrow, the thing that always started these speculations, could not be removed. It had hung in the Slytherin bedroom for as long as the castle had stood. It was a ritual for the boys to try to get it down. Obviously, none had succeeded. More the shame, as it often gave Draco nightmares. He scowled up at the offending piece of armory. "You shouldn't be here." He said to it, "You should be in the Gryffindor room. Their color-and blood-is scarlet. Not mine."

And the arrow answered, "But they aren't violent, are they? They don't enjoy dissection frogs in potions class"

It had become a habit of his to talk to the thing, and he enjoyed-or something a bit like it-making up answers for it. "It's part of my grade. I do NOT enjoy it. It's Crabbe who gets that sick pleasure."

And the arrow was silent. Draco didn't pursue conversations with inanimate objects when they didn't respond. He turned over and went to sleep. Maybe tonight the thing won't enter my dreams, He thought. It was too much to ask.

The arrow hovered in front of him. "I thought I told you not to come here!" He said. "You were supposed to stay at your Post!"

The arrow spoke-actually spoke- back "I have found him."

"You have not!" said he, "Look! The chains still bind you. The One must cut you free!"

"He knows. He knows I am special." Said the talking arrow.

"Does he know what you are?" said his dream-self.

"No. Not yet. He only knows there is something special about me. He has your mind."

"My WHAT?"

"Your mind. He thinks like you. Always wondering. He is your Heir."

Then, for the first time, Draco spoke the words he wanted to speak. "You. You're talking about me, aren't you? But I can't be Slytherin's heir. Potter's the parcel tongue, not me."

"You're Not." Said the arrow.

When he woke, he didn't remember the dream at all.

A/N I have a sort of deadline on this one, so the next one will be sooooo much longer! Anyway, my first fic. Hope you liked!